Delta: Revenge (17 page)

“And the accent works for you?” he teased.

She turned on him, taking any excuse to be closer, batting his chest just to feel his warmth, and gave a deflecting smile made of saccharine and self-preservation. “We both know your accent is your secret weapon.”

He tugged her close, kissing her neck with more tongue than she would’ve expected—even from him—in the middle of the embassy’s formal, albeit empty, dining room. “No, gatinha. Secret weapon is my mouth.”

Oh, Lordy. Oh, Lordy, Lordy, Lordy.
He held her against him and kept his lips to her skin, working his way to the perfect spot at her hairline so that all she could do was tremble. “Okay, you win.”

Another squeeze and a chaste kiss to counteract the serious tongue action on her neck, and he asked, “Coffee?”

“Um, yeah.” Or a quick run to the room for another orgasm. Or both.

His eyes smoldered, intensifying as though he could read her mind. Which, at that point, he wouldn’t have to do, because she was sure every thought and emotion was lit up on her face like a neon sign.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Soph, don’t forget it when I come back for you.”

Melt. God, she was a puddle of woman. “Okay.”

He laughed, kissed her cheek, and turned toward the buffet. “Let’s get our grub on.”

Janny came back, and from the other hallway poured the voices from Javier’s teammates. They all eyed Sophia, but no one said a word other than a couple of curious hellos. Really, all four men were stupidly hot. How was it possible that they worked together?
Like there was a superheroes convention and they teamed up.

Jensen and Brackster arrived, and when all their plates were piled high, Janella joined them. Delta could put away some food, which Sophia was sure pleased Janny to no end. But mostly, they ate in silence, and they must have shared some kind of commando joint look when they were done because they basically finished at the same time. The men deposited their plates on a tray despite Janny shooing them away, and Brock led their exit, followed by Grayson. But Ryder lagged, keeping an eye on Javier, who walked over and smacked a kiss on Sophia’s cheek in the most sincere and sexy way possible.

Yeah, she was done. This was the kind of guy she wanted to hang onto.

“Later. Whatever that thought was, paixão, don’t forget.”

“Oh, Lordy,” Janny whispered loudly enough that Ryder chuckled all low and manly then slapped Javier on the back as they walked out the door.

Sophia fell into the chair as though swooning so badly her legs couldn’t support her gooey, mushy, Javier-soaked brain anymore. “Oh, Lordy.”

***

“That was interesting.” Ryder gave Javier an eye as they geared up with the rest of the team.

“She’s interesting.”

“I bet she is.” His Aussie accent dragged as he laughed.

“Shut your mouth, bro.”

Grayson laughed, Brock grumbled, and Ryder didn’t listen, mumbling, “What are you doing with her?”

“Nothing.”

“Kissing her see-ya-later isn’t nothing, friend.”

“Christ.” Brock grumbled. “Gear up, Ryder. Let’s go.”

Javier ran through his mental checklist. Working in Honduras was a crucial point in his search for the PC. Payback was the only thing he should focus on, the only thing to be hungry for. Yet as he checked his weapons and strapped them to his chest and thighs, his mind was on Sophia and how she would stay safe and what she was really doing in Honduras.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bored and reading her book, Sophia lounged on the couch as Ambassador Jensen walked into the multipurpose room. His brow was drawn, and his usually tightly cropped gray hair needed a trim. But other than that, he looked ready for business. “Sophia?”

She placed the e-reader in her lap, hopeful that he had an update. “Yes, sir?”

“Can I join you?” he murmured, sitting before she could speak.

Oh no. Bad news. “Of course.”

He leaned back in the couch. “You’ve been here for several months now, right?”

She nodded. “About six.”

“And in that time, we’ve had our share of… guests.”

Oh. The awkward vibes of a father-daughter talk crept up her neck. This was embarrassing. “Yes.”

“I know your father very well, and if I were him, I’d want to tell you to…” He shifted on the couch. “Not to get your feelings hurt.”

Ambassador Jensen was trying to do her father a solid. She got it, but he didn’t know her history with Javier, as off-the-wall as it might be. She swallowed an uncomfortable knot. “He’s a friend of my brother. I… know him.”

“Be that as it may.” He cleared his throat. “They’re here, and then they’re gone. I think you’ve done a great job with Hana Ferrera and do not want you to lose your focus.”

“Okay.” What to say to that?

“But you’re also young, and this post isn’t where you stay for a long time in the prime of life. There’s no telling how long Whispering Willow will last. Two weeks, ten months. Who knows?”

“Um, okay.”

“What I’m trying to say is, make sure you’re happy, but don’t fall in love out here. It doesn’t go anywhere, and if you were my daughter, I’d want you to know that.”

God. Her head pounded. This conversation would never end. “Yes, sir.”

“No
sir
needed right now.” He shifted again. “And onto another topic, you’re free to go back into the field. Unrest has quieted.”

Even though Delta was still in the field? “What about the team that’s here?”

“They’re working on something outside the city. And what they do, if they can do it, will actually help our relations here while at the same time protecting what you’re working on. Very circular. But if you want to go search out Hana, you can. Their ongoing operations will not commingle with yours. Publicly.”

Sophia’s heart jumped. Javier was still here and not going anywhere. At least not immediately. Realization smacked her sideways. She needed to quiet the reaction, tone it down. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. Just, as always, stay alert. I suppose you want to head out?”

Her grin might’ve reached her ears. “I’m itching to.”

He nodded. “Safely.”

“Of course.” She hurried upstairs, dressed for the occasion, texted Hana to meet her for sushi, and waved to Janny on her way downstairs. Her phone buzzed with a reply from Hana, agreeing to meet in an hour. Perfect. She could get out, stretch her legs, grab some caffeine, and meander to dinner. Setting eyes on the city, not through her binoculars, always gave her a sense of calm. She might be in the murder capital of the world, but a quick look around showed a normal, bustling South American city.

As she crossed the lobby, Brackster rounded the corner, a cellphone pressed to his ear. “Sophia?”

She turned, ready to explain that Jensen had given her the A-OK to get out of the building. “Yes, sir?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear. “Have you—”

“Ambassador Jensen gave me leave to go.”

His face twisted. “When?”

“Just now.”

Scouring his face with one hand, he looked at his phone then her. “Just now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stay close. Keep your phone on.”

For all the good that did sometimes. Cell service wasn’t a guarantee outside the building. “Is everything okay?”

He gave her the look that said his response was classified. Despite her work on Whispering Willow, she was still out of the loop on pretty much everything. “Should I stay in?”

A dry, heavy sigh blew through his lips. “I wouldn’t speak against the ambassador’s orders.”

Right… something was going on. “I’ll just be down the street.”

His gray eyes narrowed, and again he did the face rub. Then he nodded, rejoining the call, mumbling a response as he headed upstairs.

Weird but not unheard-of. Just to be safe, Sophia revamped her plans. Instead of walking the endless loop of blocks, she’d hop on the bus that ran the avenue almost every ten minutes.

The reinforced door groaned as its foreboding, protective weight opened. She smiled at the RSO guards who stood post as she passed, and the heavy, armored door clanged shut behind her. Perfect timing: the bus was half a block away and slowed toward the stop. She jogged to the post as it drew near, and moments later, she pushed through the too-warm, overly packed bus crowd.

She settled into her seat, glancing out the window as Jensen pushed open the embassy’s front door. The bus jolted forward, and she lost sight of the building. It was odd for the ambassador to walk out before his car had arrived. He certainly wasn’t the type to ride the bus like staff might.

A twinge of uncertainty scratched at her senses. Did he look as though he were searching for someone, for
her
, instead of arriving before his driver did? Sophia pulled out her phone, hating the closeness of all the people on the jam-packed bus. No texts, no emails, no missed calls.

If someone from the embassy needed her, they didn’t have to send the ambassador running after her.

Still… her parents hadn’t raised a fool. Dad would appreciate the seat she’d chosen despite the at-capacity bus that insisted on hitting
every single
pothole. And her mom… what would she have appreciated? The smartness of her clothes—they didn’t scream
Wealthy American; please kidnap me
. Sophia broadcast no tourist signs. So maybe her mom would appreciate that. Though the public transportation she wouldn’t like so much.

Checking her phone again, Sophia tapped the pad of her finger on the smart phone’s screen then tossed it into her bag as the bus neared her stop. She pulled the string and pushed through the overly warm crowd, even grunting without too much commotion when someone accidentally elbowed her on the way out.

Seriously. She shook off the icky feel of too many people in too closed a spot and hit the familiar path down a congested street. Shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other, an awkward awareness hung heavy on her shoulders. It was as though eyes were on her even though no one met her gaze. Her sixth sense rocketed into high gear in a way that she hadn’t experienced in Honduras. The charged air crackled at the back of her neck, pin pricks of anticipation keeping her focused on constant surveillance.

Women looked away as she continued down Av. República de Mexico, and the men looked right through her. Whatever had had the city in a bustle for the past week was tainting the overpopulated community.

She stopped at a cafe for a coffee. Other patrons knew her. Some were poverty stricken, some aligned with the PC, but mostly, they were hard workers, raising their families and socializing with their neighbors. They were people who, over the last six months, she had come to chat with or say hi.

“
Querría un café Americano.
”

The barista nodded at her regular coffee order, and Sophia shoved her hand in her purse—her
empty
purse. Shit.

She snatched the bag down, pried it open. No wallet. No cell phone. Nothing worth a cup of coffee. Damn it.
“Mantener mi pedido por favor.”

Her mind raced back to the bus and how diligent she was. On the bus… the man who’d elbowed her. It must have been a team, because he’d been in front of her. Apologizing. Taking her notice away from the weight of her purse…

Of all the dangers that she’d prepared for, of all the bad feelings and the weirdo juju that had her head turning somersaults, a pickpocket was
not
what had been her concern.

No phone. No money. No way to check in with the embassy or let Hana know she was running behind. It was pointless, but it was also a matter of self-preservation. Her ID, credit cards, and whatever cash she had were all gone. Visa and AmEx would handle any rogue charges, no problem, but she needed to call them. On what phone? And she needed a police report to go along with her stolen driver’s license and work identification.

She shook her head, sighing, as the barista offered to cover her coffee for the day, and she turned as the cafe door’s bell jingled. Finally. A splash of good luck. “
Disculpar?
” she said, politely getting his attention.

“Yes,” the familiar policeman said in English.

Sophia took a calming breath. He knew English. This would be better than her futzing through intermediate language skills that were more effective for political-climate analysis and less so for reporting petty crimes. “My wallet and cell were taken from my purse. I need to file a report.”

She needed to notify her cell carrier, too. There were lots of things to do. Okay. One step at a time. Police report first because he was in front of her, then track down Hana and use her phone to look up the credit card and cell phone numbers.

“Have a seat.” He gestured to a small table and placed his order at the coffee bar. Two minutes later, he joined her and started the tedious process of filing a report for her stolen goods.

No, Sophia didn’t remember faces.

Yes, she knew they’d likely never catch the guys—a team, she assumed.